


The Verdict

by LeeBlack



Series: Wolves at Your Door [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:13:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24790648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeBlack/pseuds/LeeBlack
Summary: Deucalion cleared his throat quietly. “Alpha Hale, I again want to thank you for your cooperation as I’ve spoken with you and your Pack members. The information I’ve learned has been passed on to the Council and we have completed our deliberations,” he said.“And your decision?”
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Wolves at Your Door [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720972
Comments: 32
Kudos: 963





	The Verdict

“You are an absolute _menace_ , you little shit.”

Stiles just grinned up at Ennis, completely unrepentant. “Something wrong, stretch?” he asked. “I’m just sitting in a public diner, eating curly fries and minding my own business.” He caught sight of Peter coming into the diner. “And waiting for a friend,” he added.

“Uh huh,” he said. “You made quite the impression on Jennifer when I had you play for me.”

Stiles just kept grinning up at him.

Peter walked over to them, brow furrowing slightly when he saw Ennis towering over Stiles at the table. His eyes flashed briefly before he saw an amused glint in the wolf’s eyes. “Did you plan on ordering anything other than curly fries?” he asked, dropping into the seat across from Stiles. “Or were you going to subsist entirely on spiralized potatoes?”

The teenager looked over at him, amusement still blatantly obvious. He slid a glass of iced coffee over to Peter without prompting. “What’s wrong with curly fries?”

“They lack any sort of nutritional value,” Peter said, even as he snagged a fry off of Stiles’ plate. “How long have you been here?”

Stiles shrugged. “Long enough to order you a mushroom swiss burger because you’re a freak who lacks good taste. Which I will mock you for, while I eat a much more respectable breakfast burger.” He looked back at Ennis. “You told me you’d put in a good word if I won. Winning requires the highest score, so did I somehow not win?” he asked, grin coming back full force.

“Yes, _technically_ , you did.”

“And you said that depending on my final score, you’d put in a good word with Jennifer.”

Ennis ground his teeth, eyebrow twitching in annoyance. “I did.” He looked over at Peter. “You’re a bad influence on the kid, Hale.”

Peter snorted. “I’ve hardly had any influence on him. He came like this to start with,” he said. He stole another fry. “What did he do?”

“Ennis had to talk to Deucalion in private after he talked to me for a Big Talk, capital letters, so he distracted me by having me play Words with Friends with a friend of his, and depending on my score, he’d put in a good word about a potential tutor-ship,” Stiles said. “And I did exactly as asked. Right?”

Ennis sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “You did.”

“So then I don’t see the problem.”

Ennis let out another sigh, this one with an edge of growl to it. “You started off with the word ‘muzjiks’, puppy,” he said.

Stiles nodded. “It’s a completely legitimate word. Alternate spelling of the word ‘muzhiks’. Historical term for Russian peasants,” he said. “And the game accepted it, so there was no way she can count it as cheating.”

“Yeah, no, but then you followed it up with jezebel, harlot, courtesan, strumpet, and tramp.”

He laughed. “I played the letters I was dealt,” he said. “And I won the game. I’m not really seeing the problem here.”

Ennis rolled his eyes. “Jennifer doesn’t really like the fact that I have such a deep, abiding love for Kali, and the words you chose really didn’t help my position,” he said. “So, sure, you _technically_ won, but you also didn’t win me any favor with Kali’s wife, so I’m kind of at a loss with you.”

Stiles shrugged. “You had me sit in the kitchen while you and Deucalion decided if me and the Pack all end up dead before the next full moon,” he said. “I figure turnabout is fair play.”

Peter laughed quietly. “The boy does have a point,” he said, looking up at Ennis.

“Great,” he muttered. “There’s two of you now,” he said.

“And hey, speaking of which,” Stiles said around a mouthful of fries. “When do we get to find out whether we live or die?” he asked.

Ennis frowned slightly. “Duke called your man last night to set up a meeting with you all to share the final determination,” he said, looking between Stiles and Peter. His expression darkened quite considerably when he saw the twin expressions of confused irritation dawning on their faces. “He didn’t tell you?”

Peter shook his head. “He hasn’t reached out to me to my knowledge, but I also haven’t had my phone on me for at least a few hours now, so it’s entirely possible he’s left a message and I just haven’t gotten it yet,” he said.

The taller man scoffed. “Plausible explanation, Hale, but it still doesn’t look great on your nephew.” He looked over at Stiles. “I’m guessing you’re going to have a similar excuse if I ask you.”

Stiles chanced a quick look over at Peter, whose expression had gone completely neutral. “Probably,” he said, erring on the side of caution. “But let’s say that, hypothetically, I haven’t heard Derek’s message yet either. Do you know what the final answer is?”

He shook his head. “He’s conferencing with the rest of the Council for another few hours.”

“And you left him alone?” Peter asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

“If he’s unsafe in the Edgewood, there are going to be more pressing concerns than your futures,” Ennis said. “’Sides, he sent me here to pick up a carryout order. He likes the barbecue platter.”

“So you just stumbled across Stiles as pure coincidence?”

Ennis shrugged. “Not entirely unexpected in a town this size,” he said. “Besides, Mel’s may be a shitty place to have a private conversation, but they’ve got good food,” he said.

Peter didn’t look entirely convinced, but let the matter settle.

“Hey, so, hypothetically,” Stiles started. “If me and Peter haven’t checked our phones lately, where should we show up to hear this final decision of Duke’s?”

Ennis narrowed his eyes at the teenager. “That plausibility is getting less and less passable, puppy,” he said. “You familiar with your man’s loft?”

Stiles nodded.

“Tonight. Duke should be closing up with the Council around nine, based on what he was able to tell me,” he said. “So if you’re there by about ten, you should be good.” He watched Stiles for a long minute, an inscrutable look on his face. “Of course, if you’re not comfortable with him in the room, you can always skulk around in the parking lot until I bring the towncar around.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Peter said. “But the lenience is appreciated.” He leaned back a bit, catching sight of the waitress approaching. “Now, if you don’t mind, our lunch is arriving, and I’m certain your order’s ready for pickup by now.”

Ennis nodded, shooting an odd look at Peter. “Probably, yeah. I’ll see you two later tonight, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Peter said dryly.

...

Several hours later, Stiles wandered into Derek’s loft, doing his best not to look as nervous as he felt.

Peter had arrived about ten minutes before him, after taking a run through the Preserve to get rid of the worst of his nerves. Stiles had planned on stalking the man, intent on finding out if his run was a two-legged one or a four-legged one, but Peter had just smirked at him before practically disappearing into the brush. Now, it looked like he’d not only gone on a run, but had time to clean up after it - dressing up in a green v-neck and dark jeans, leather jacket tossed almost casually over the railing of the spiral staircase.

The teenager sauntered over to the staircase where the man had made himself comfortable, grinning as Peter quirked an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a bra, showing off all that cleavage?” he asked.

Peter laughed quietly, leaning back a bit to rest his elbows against the stairs and spreading his legs almost obscenely wide. “You’re welcome to look, pet,” he said, all smarmy smirk.

Stiles snorted.

“Knock it off, Peter,” Derek snapped as he stepped out of what had to be the bedroom. “He’s underage.”

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but Derek just shot him a glare. “Don’t push it, Stiles. Peter’s dangerous.”

“Oh, how good of you to remember,” Peter all but purred, flashing electric blue eyes at Derek.

Derek snarled, flashing his own red eyes. “Consider yourself lucky to be here, Peter. You could have very easily been updated with a phone call.”

“And risk our Pack standing by not presenting a united front?” he asked, straightening a bit as Stiles practically shoved him over to get comfortable on the step above Peter. “Perish the thought. And just where are your wayward Betas?”

Derek was silent for a moment, glowering at Stiles as he made himself comfortable on the step. “They should be back from a run any minute now.”

Peter hummed but didn’t say anything.

“Deucalion should be showing soon too,” Derek said as he stalked back into the bedroom. “Try not to embarrass yourselves when he gets here.”

Peter just hummed again.

Stiles pulled out his phone, shooting off a quick text to Peter, having a feeling that Derek wasn’t in the mood to tolerate his usual banter with the older man.

To: Walking Dead  
 _shouldnt sourwolf be using titles?_

From: Walking Dead  
 _Only if he cared about adhering to traditional standards in an effort to endear himself to our investigators, thus potentially increasing our chances of walking out of this meeting alive._

To: Walking Dead  
 _awful long way of saying yes, dude_

From: Walking Dead  
 _You know how I feel about that word, pet_

To: Walking Dead  
 _yeah dude i kno ... what r u gonna do about it_

From: Walking Dead  
 _I will dislocate your thumbs and choke you with them if you devolve into txtspk like an ingrate_

To: Walking Dead  
 _don’t b lyk that, Petey Pie, u no u like me 2 much >:]_

Peter turned his head to look up at Stiles, shifting enough that he very noticeably didn’t bare his throat, even if Derek wasn’t immediately in sight. “I may like you, pet, but that will not stop me from shoving you in the trunk of my car, driving you out to the middle of nowhere, and leaving you bare-ass naked to find your own way back.”

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Is there something about my threat that isn’t plausible, kitten?” Peter asked, tone saccharine.

He grinned down at the man. “No chance you wouldn’t be there to ogle me from the shadows and gloat about my incompetence at wandering through the woods,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Peter’s smirk. “What was it, the text speak or the nickname?”

Peter flashed his eyes at Stiles. “Try either again and find out,” he said.

Stiles’ grin only grew. He opened his mouth to continue poking at Peter when the door to the loft slid open.

Three familiar teenage forms stumbled in, panting heavily.

Stiles tensed, all amusement gone as the three of them came further into the loft and noticed he and Peter sitting on the staircase.

Boyd and Erica stiffened, ducking their heads away from Stiles as they headed toward the couch furthest away from the staircase. As they went, Erica glanced up out of the corner of her eyes for a brief second to look over at Stiles. When their eyes met, she flinched and looked away again, dropping heavily onto the couch.

“Have you truly not spoke to them since the Argent’s basement?” Peter asked mildly.

Stiles shrugged, glancing back down at his phone, scrolling through the apps. “I don’t really blame them,” he said. “I couldn’t get them out, so if I were them, I wouldn’t want to talk to me that much either.”

The two teenagers stiffened, both of them immediately focusing on Stiles. He missed their sudden attention, still fidgeting with his phone, but Peter noticed and turned his head toward them, watching them with eyes flared electric blue.

“I heard on my scanner when they got found, and it was within the timeframe I gave Chris, so I figured that was my part done. Dispatch said they were setting up a safehouse protocol with them, so there wasn’t any way I could have gone over and started asking questions without Dad getting even more suspicious,” Stiles said quietly. “Besides, I couldn’t get them unhooked from the setup that was electroshocking them, so why would they have wanted to see me to begin with?”

Erica shifted a bit, glancing over at Boyd before starting to stand up, a scowl on her face.

Peter bared fanged teeth at her, snapping at the air.

Erica flared gold eyes and bared her own fangs at him.

Peter sat up a bit, letting out a low, subsonic growl that had the hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck standing up, goosebumps rippling over his arms.

He looked up from his phone, frowning at Peter. “What the hell, man?”

“It’s nothing,” Peter said, the gentle tone at odds with the furious look he was leveling at Erica.

Stiles snorted. “Werewolf pheromones acting up? It’s not that time of the month for you.” He looked over at Erica and then back at Peter. “Wait, are you really going to throw down with a teenage girl? Don’t like having competition for cleavage in the same room?”

Erica huffed and sat back down. Boyd immediately wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. The two of them spoke quietly, too lowly for Stiles to hear.

Whatever they said, though, seemed to mollify Peter. He settled back, reverting back a more neutral expression. “Feeling conflicted, pet?” he asked. “I assure you, my cleavage is accompanied with a winning personality.”

Stiles smirked down at him. “Feeling awfully full of yourself, aren’t you?”

And _there_ was the smarmy grin again. “I’m happy to let you have a feel, if you’d like. Can’t have you thinking I’m all brag and no bite.” He pressed his back against Stiles’ legs, twisting a bit to look up at him again. “You’re welcome to use both hands, in fact.”

Stiles opened his mouth, retort at the ready, when he was interrupted by another question.

Isaac, from his spot standing uncomfortably near the kitchen, looked like he’d swallowed a lemon as he glared over at Stiles and Peter. “When’s Scott coming back?” he asked.

“You’ve got his number, why don’t you ask him?” Stiles asked tartly.

“Because you’re his butt-buddy. Shouldn’t you know that?”

A knock on the loft door stopped the conversation before anyone else could get involved.

Derek came out of the bedroom again, pulling on a green t-shirt. He shot a glare at the other occupants of the loft. “Behave yourselves,” he growled, eyes flaring red, before opening the door.

Deucalion was standing there with a carefully crafted expression of polite disinterest on his face, Ennis slightly behind him with a matching expression. “Good evening, Alpha Hale.”

“Alpha Blackwood,” Derek said gruffly. He gestured roughly for the two of them to come inside before walking away from the door and making his way toward the armchair at the far end of the room.

Deucalion frowned slightly as Ennis slid the door shut behind him but walked inside. The slight red glow of his Alpha eyes glowed through the tint of his sunglasses as he headed toward the kitchen stools, sending Isaac skittering toward the couches. “I appreciate your willingness to allow myself and my Second into your territory,” he said, perching on one of the stools.

“Sure,” Derek said. “I trust you got the information you needed?”

Stiles frowned slightly as he thought back to some of the things Peter had told him about a Council-determined investigation, and about how visiting Alphas were traditionally treated when there had been no acts of aggression. He nudged the older man a bit with his foot, hoping to be subtle about it, only to be answered with the buzz alerting him of an incoming text message.

From: Walking Dead  
 _Yes, pet, I noticed it too._

To: Walking Dead  
 _he can’t revoke a ‘you live’ verdict just bc derek’s an asshole, can he?_

From: Walking Dead  
 _I’ve never heard of such a thing. The Council exists to minimize the risk of personality clashes impacting the decision._

From: Walking Dead  
 _He may very well destroy any chances we may have had of an alliance with a stable, established Pack._

To: Walking Dead  
 _yaaay we’re all fucked_

Peter snorted quietly but said nothing, choosing instead to lean back against Stiles’ legs and smirk up at him.

Stiles rolled his eyes and turned his focus back over to Deucalion and Ennis. Ennis was watching him, doing his best to keep a neutral expression on his face, but the amused glint in his eyes was shining through. Deucalion didn’t look at all affected, but Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if the man was somehow aware of the interaction.

Derek shifted a bit in his chair, watching Deucalion with Alpha-red eyes of his own.

Erica and Boyd were tense, looking between Derek and Deucalion with an almost nervous look on his face. They’d curled into each other, Erica practically on Boyd’s lap with his arms wrapped around her waist.

Isaac, for his part, hadn’t taken a seat, but had instead chosen to stay standing. He was behind Derek’s chair, back against the wall and eyes locked on the floor.

Deucalion cleared his throat quietly. “Alpha Hale, I again want to thank you for your cooperation as I’ve spoken with you and your Pack members. The information I’ve learned has been passed on to the Council and we have completed our deliberations,” he said.

“And your decision?”

He cocked his head to the side a bit. “Probationary.”

The air in the room went static. That wasn’t definitive - and who knew what the terms of this probation would be.

Derek scowled. “That wasn’t one of the outcomes we discussed.”

“And yet, it is the decision the Council has determined appropriate,” Deucalion said, a little bit of an edge in his tone. “I should think you would appreciate a verdict that leaves you and your Pack alive.”

Stiles relaxed ever so slightly, as did Peter. The three Betas stayed put, not so much as twitching.

“Under parameters, you mean,” Derek all but snapped.

“Nothing too restrictive,” Deucalion said. “The Council understands that your Pack has undergone several tragedies in recent years, and as such, a seamless transition into an established Pack is entirely unrealistic. As such, we’ve determined a few milestones and objectives we would like you and your Pack to complete during this probationary period.”

“And they are?”

“You are to refrain from Turning any others. Your Betas have experienced a significant amount of trauma, and we expect you to prioritize your current Pack before expanding it,” he said. “That two of your wolves regularly have night terrors about the torture they have experienced at the hands of hunters, and that they carry very little of their Alpha’s scent on them, is nigh unforgivable. That the two in question are teenagers with less than six month’s experience as Turned wolves does not lend confidence, either.”

Derek flinched but didn’t say anything.

“You are to refrain from taking any additional action that draws additional hunters to your territory,.” he said. When Derek started to argue with that, Deucalion held up a hand. “We understand that hunters tend to stir up trouble, and that you’ve already got part of the Argent clan in residence in this town. However, if you focus on the wolves you have, ensure they are provided proper care and training, there should be little attention drawn to your town and territory. Members of the Council, including myself, have agreed that, should hunters come unbidden into your territory, we will allow whatever actions you deem necessary to protect your Pack. Your priority, however, should remain on avoiding detection.”

“Like we were really trying to get attention in the first place.”

“You Bit a teenager who then turned into a kanima. That does not speak particularly highly of your prowess, Alpha Hale,” Deucalion said. “Now, I can understand that getting used to the Alpha power does take some getting used to, but allowing you to run rampant puts everyone at risk, and I treasure my Pack far too much to allow a young Alpha to put all of us at risk.”

Derek growled lowly, clearly not appreciating the threat.

Ennis returned the growl with one of his own. “Alpha or not, Hale, threaten my Alpha again and I will not hesitate to knock you down several pegs.”

“Ennis,” Deucalion warned quietly. “Alpha Hale, I would request you maintain decorum. I am here to communicate the determination of the Council, and if this conversation derails, we may have no choice but to amend our decision.”

“Of course,” Derek bit out.

Deucalion was silent for another moment. “The Council also mandates that you find an Emissary,” he said. “Your territory is particularly rich with wild magic, and establishing an Emissary will help to stabilize that magic, and can help you learn to balance your power. You are new to the Alpha rank, and an adjustment period is to be expected. If you would like, the Council can provide you with a list of known magic users who may be willing to come to you.” He paused, turning his head toward the staircase. “Though your human Pack member shows potential as well.”

Stiles jumped at the sudden reference to himself.

“I’ll talk to Deaton.”

“Alan Deaton?” Deucalion asked curiously, though there was a hint of a frown on his face.

“He was my mother’s Emissary. I’ll talk to him.”

Deucalion nodded. “Should you need any assistance, the Council is willing to share our experience with you,” he said. “And we are also willing to provide resources allowing your human Pack member to be trained, should he desire it.”

Stiles found himself nodding before he realized it. Derek shot him a glower and he settled, swallowing the urge to send a rude gesture his way.

“Any other rules?” Derek asked, looking back over at Deucalion.

“Members of the Council will be visiting throughout your probationary period to check on your progress and address any questions you may have as you get your Pack more fully established. As your probationary period progresses, you and your Pack will be expected to perform in a manner that reflects an appropriately stable Pack.”

Derek nodded once. “And how long is this probationary period?”

“A year, to start.”

“To start?” he asked.

Deucalion nodded. “Yours is a particularly unique case, so the Council has elected to provide something of a unique verdict,” he said. “We’ve granted a year’s probationary period to allow you time to stabilize your Pack, but with the knowledge that you have members of the Argent clan in your territory, we have determined that we will need to revisit the verdict after a year’s time.”

Peter shifted a bit in his seat, almost like he wanted to say something, but stayed silent.

“Why? Is this because you and Peter-”

“This is because the Council determined that your Pack would benefit from a probationary period,” Deucalion said, voice gone cold. “The personal relationships between any member of your Pack and mine in no way played into the verdict determined by the twelve members of the Council, and you would do very well to at least attempt to conduct yourself as is appropriate, Alpha Hale,” he said. “Of course, if you would rather a more immediate verdict, I can relay that request to the rest of the Council?”

Derek shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

Deucalion was silent for a moment, either waiting for Derek to keep speaking or to take a moment to compose himself. “Beta Hale,” Deucalion said, turning his focus suddenly over to Peter. “As the Sire to the young McCall, you will be held responsible for any actions he may take contrary to the established Alpha. He is to be included in your Pack’s probationary period, and should you all succeed or fail, McCall will share your fates.”

“I understand, Alpha Blackwood, and appreciate the lenience of the Council.”

Deucalion nodded, focus lingering on Peter for just a few more seconds before returning to Derek. “Do you have any further questions about the decision of the Council?”

Derek shook his head. “You’ve made your terms clear.”

“Your probationary period will begin at the start of the coming full moon,” he said. “The Council wishes you the best of luck in succeeding.”

Stiles cocked his head to the side a bit, intrigued at the phrasing.

Derek just nodded.

“Then if there is nothing else, I will take my leave. My Second and I will be out of your territory in twenty-four hours, as discussed upon our first discussion,” he said, standing up.

He nodded again. At the pointed silence, he stood up and walked over to the door. “I appreciate your consideration, Alpha Blackwood,” he said, sliding the door open. “And wish you safe travels back to your territory.”

Deucalion just nodded and headed out.

Ennis followed, however, instead of leaving just behind his Alpha, stopped just in front of Derek. “A word, Alpha,” he said lowly, though his voice carried throughout the room.

Derek stood there rigidly, glaring up at the taller man.

“Wolves see value, Alpha Hale, and if there is the potential to bring that value to our Pack, most wolves will not hesitate to strike,” he said. When it was clear that Derek was confused, Ennis stepped closer, not quite making physical contact with Derek but very definitively stepping into the man’s personal space. “If a wolf less respectable than myself heard you refer to a human with latent magic, one who has put themselves in danger to protect other Pack members, as _Pack-adjacent_ , they would not have hesitated to poach that human. I can’t promise I’ll be able to resist that temptation again, and I can guarantee that several members of the Council won’t even bother with the courtesy of a warning.”

Derek bared his teeth at the man but didn’t say anything.

Ennis offered him a clearly insincere smile. “Your hospitality has been appreciated, Alpha Hale,” he said, sauntering out after his Alpha.

As soon as Derek slid the door shut, he turned a glare onto Stiles. “You decided to try and worm your way into the good graces of Blackwood’s Second?”

Stiles bristled at that. He felt Peter stiffen as well, and caught a glimpse of the man’s claws sliding out before he retracted them, no doubt adopting a detached expression. Still, he didn’t doubt that Peter was ready to intervene if it looked like Derek was going to get violent. “You’ll find that Walmart is not the best location to try and intimidate your Pack _adjacent_ human into behaving for a visiting Alpha werewolf, Derek,” he snapped. “Turns out, a whole bunch of people might be around to overhear whatever you’re saying.”

Derek growled lowly, taking a step forward.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, clenching his phone so tightly he could almost feel the device start to bend.

“You’re lucky to be here, Stiles -”

“And you’re lucky I didn’t leave your heavy ass to drown in a pool while you were being stalked by the kanima, or are you only willing to put up with me when your life literally depends on it?” Stiles asked archly. “I could have been doing a whole hell of a lot better things for two hours than doggie paddle your head above water.”

Derek growled lowly.

“Knock it off,” Erica snapped, her voice cutting through the tension. “We all get to go home alive today, Derek. Can you maybe stop trying to pick fights for like five minutes and let us fucking breathe?” she asked.

Derek took a small step back, clearly taken off guard.

Isaac made an odd noise in the back of his throat, gaze darting between Derek and Erica.

She looked over at him, expression furious. “You haven’t gotten your fill of it lately?” she asked, standing up. She held her hand out to Boyd, who took it. She practically pulled him out of the loft, sliding the door open and slamming it shut.

“Well, that was certainly interesting,” Peter said, tone deceptively mild. He stood up and looked over at Stiles, practically turning his back on Derek. “You drove here, yes?”

He nodded.

“Good. You can take me for coffee and I’ll make sure you get home in one piece.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Playing the gallant hero?”

“I am rather charming,” he said, offering Stiles his hand. “Keep up the flattery and I’ll even pay for whatever ridiculous nonsense you decide to order.” When Stiles took his hand, though not without a scowl, he just smirked. “Drive like you have a modicum of skill at it and I’ll even throw in a pastry, kitten.”

“Kitten?” Isaac asked nastily.

Stiles ignored him as he allowed Peter to pull him to his feet. He had a few retorts at the ready for that, but he had no intention of getting Isaac involved in any way with his relationship with Peter, even as a thorn in his side. “Make it a ham and cheese croissant from Mel’s and I’ll even follow all the posted traffic laws,” he said, pulling his hand out of Peter’s and walking out of Derek’s loft.

“Stiles,” Derek started, making a gesture that looked like it was an aborted grab for Stiles’ arm. “You can’t go with him.”

Stiles stopped in the doorway, Peter just on the other side of the threshold and watching Derek’s every movement with eyes flaring supernaturally blue. “What makes you say that?”

“If you want in this Pack, you have to follow your Alpha’s orders. And I’m the Alpha.”

He just snorted. “You’ve made it clear that you don’t really consider me part of this Pack. And either way, I’m having someone escort me home while there are werewolves belonging to another Pack in your territory, which is one, courteous, and two, standard procedure to ensure that affiliated humans make their way home without harassment,” Stiles said, making sure to drag out the words ‘affiliated humans’ just to watch Derek’s eyes narrow at him. “Unless you’d rather have me wandering around unchaperoned. Free to get into the sort of trouble that would have not just me, but my dad at risk.”

Derek flinched slightly but didn’t say anything.

Stiles sighed heavily. “Look, Derek. I get that you don’t like me. Feeling’s kind of mutual, to be honest,” he said. "And setting aside your _massive_ personality flaws, I’m still willing to be in the Pack. Just, shit, I don’t know, get your head out of your ass and stop treating me like some kind of goddamn cockroach,” he said, meeting Derek’s Alpha red gaze without hesitation.

He flinched again, ducking his eyes after a moment. “Get the hell out of here,” he said.

Stiles watched him for another few seconds before nodding and heading out of the loft, not surprised when the door slid shut a little bit harder than absolutely necessary.

Peter smiled at him. “You conducted yourself well, pet,” he said, gesturing for Stiles to start walking.

“Don’t I always?” Stiles asked, shooting the older man a cocky grin.

He chuckled quietly. “Did you really only want a croissant? I’m happy to treat you to something more substantive, if you’d like.”

Stiles thought about it for a moment. His father was once again working an overnight shift, so there was a chance he’d see Stiles at the diner, but they still hadn’t talked all that much. Though that would almost certainly change if the Sheriff were to see his barely-legal son dining with a man so much older than him. He shrugged as Peter opened the door of the elevator for him. “Any chance you’d object to getting diner carryout and letting me crash at your place tonight?”

Peter snorted, hitting the button for the ground floor. “You aiming to monopolize my couch again, pet?”

“What? It’s comfortable.”

Peter paused, watching Stiles with an inscrutable look on his face. “As is the bed in my guest room. If you’d like,” he said.

Stiles gaped at him. “You’re sure about that offer?:”

“Do I strike you as someone who makes an offer about which I am uncertain?” Peter asked, quirking an eyebrow at Stiles. When the teenager shook his head, he smirked. “Of course, I don’t often ask questions to which I do not at least suspect the answer I’d receive.”

Stiles stayed silent as the elevator completed its descent. Once it creaked to a stop on the ground floor, he looked over at Peter. “I want to go home first, pack a bag with clothes and my toothbrush and stuff,” he said. “And I’m locking the door.”

Peter laughed, reaching an arm out to pull Stiles into a loose hug. “Whatever has you feeling most comfortable, pet,” he said.

He watched Peter for another few seconds before nodding. “Alright. I get to pack a bag, you buy me a late night dinner, and I’ll crash in your guest bed. Behind a locked door and with no tolerance for any measure of bad touch. Agreed?”

Peter nodded, brushing his cheek against Stiles’ temple, a genuine smile coming to rest on his face. “Accepted, pet.”


End file.
